


As I Wake

by ddagent



Series: Philinda in Autumn [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Autumn, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Lazy Mornings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 18:45:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4972171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rainy Autumn mornings are often the best. Part of the 'Philinda in Autumn' Series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As I Wake

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Agents of SHIELD or any of its characters, or settings - all belongs to Marvel and ABC.
> 
> Things have been a little quiet from me lately. I took a long hiatus from writing, and I found when I returned that I was inspired by the season. So I've decided to follow the muse. This story is the first in my 'Philinda in Autumn' series. The stories won't be connected, will all be different lengths and types. But they will all be connected by the theme of Autumn. I'm really looking forward to this, I think it'll be a lot of fun. Big thank you to righteousnerd for being my partner in crime and listening to my schemes! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! : )

The soft thump of the rain against the glass was the first thing Melinda heard. Her dark eyes contracted; then opened slowly on the window in front of her. Rain drops trickled down the surface of the glass, light grey clouds overwhelming the sky. As the rest of her started to wake, Melinda became aware of another noise in the room. Accompanying the soundtrack of the rain was the soft breathing of her husband. Melinda turned, smiling at the sight of Phil softly snoring beside her. His hand was resting across her stomach, the cold metal of his wedding band felt through layers of fabric.

 

As one hand reached down to cradle Phil’s, the other grasped towards her nightstand. She pushed past an old photograph of them at the Academy for her alarm clock. _Seven thirty._ For a moment Melinda chastised herself for not waking earlier. But as her husband nestled against her shoulder blades, she decided it was worth it.  

 

“Morning,” a sleepy voice mumbled between her shoulders, followed by a light kiss. “What’s the time?”

 

Melinda turned the alarm clock around so it faced the photograph of their younger selves. “Still early. Want some coffee?”

 

She was greeted with a soft snore instead of an answer. Smiling to herself, Melinda gently pulled Phil’s hand away from her stomach and eased herself out of their bed. The dark sheets had been warm; their own little nest. Without it, the cold October air began to seep through her pyjamas and into her skin. Melinda winced as her bare feet met the cold wood of their bedroom floor. They would need to do something about that. A rug or something.

 

They had been in this house, a Brownstone in Washington D.C, for a little over two months. This would be their first autumn in this house, and Phil was already reminiscing over those October afternoons they used to have coffee and go for long walks. Melinda mostly recalled the summers staying at the Carter residence just outside the city. She remembered the old house; the wrought iron gate. She remembered the guards, insisted upon by Peggy’s colleagues at SHIELD. There were no guards at this Director’s abode. Just the two of them, in a world of their own.

 

The stairs and hall were just as cold as their bedroom floor. Melinda found solace in the kitchen, happy to be making something warm to drink. It was still raining outside; the kitchen window covered in a pattern of rain drops. She smiled, enjoying the sight and sound of the rain until it was overwhelmed by steam and boiling water. Melinda cradled the mugs of tea and coffee as she made the repeat journey up the stairs.

 

Slipping back into their bedroom, Melinda left Phil’s coffee on his bedside table. She straightened their wedding photograph, pushing it back so the steam didn’t mist the glass. She left her tea beside the photograph of them in Boston, a leaf stuck in Phil’s scarf and her arms around his neck. That had been a good day. It had started very similar to this one. Grey. Rainy. Smiling wistfully, Melinda opened the curtains a little further before slipping back into bed.

 

“You’re cold,” Phil mumbled, eyes snapping open as she slid an ice cold foot against his leg. “You’re _really_ cold. I’ll adjust the thermostat later.”

 

“Good.” Melinda smirked, running her toes against the inside of Phil’s knee. Sitting back against the pillows, she reached for her tea. “I made you some coffee.”

 

Finally awake, Phil sat up, pressing a kiss against her lips. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too.”

 

Phil straightened his arms, yawning wildly, before reaching for his coffee. He blew the steam from the surface of the mug; then took a long gulp. He winced at the temperature, but soon after took another sip. Leaning back against their pillows, Phil rested his head on Melinda’s shoulder. “What do you want to do today?”

 

“Well I _thought_ we could go for a long walk, but I think the weather voted against us.” Melinda took a sip of her tea, shivering at the sensation of her husband’s lips against the curve of her neck. “What about you? Anything you want to do?”

 

“Not especially. I got a couple of agent files to look over, but I can do those later.” He left another kiss to her neck, then another against her collar bone. “Is staying in bed all day an option?”

 

It was tempting. The weather outside was horrible. The house was cold. Melinda wasn’t completely adverseto the idea of spending all day in bed with her husband. The morning at least. Smirking, Melinda looked down at Phil. “I think I could be persuaded.”

 

Phil beamed. His mouth left a trail of warm kisses along the length of her neck, pausing just behind her ear. Melinda sighed, wetting her lips as her husband dedicated his attention to that one particular spot. His hand reached back to abandon his mug of coffee, before lifting her tea out of her grasp and onto her bedside table. With all hot beverages pushed aside, Phil’s lips finally met hers. They were warm from the coffee, bitter too. But Melinda pushed for more, tongue flicking against Phil’s bottom lip. Their soft gasps as their kisses turned more heated drowned out the rain.

 

Lying against their sheets, Phil pulled the duvet over their heads. They were in their own little world. There was nowhere else Melinda would rather be.


End file.
